Slighted
by Amarylle
Summary: The war is over, and Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are jittery to leave England and the aftermath behind, so that is exactly what they do. This shatters Hermione Granger, leaving her to deal with everything on her own. Who will be there to pick up the pieces? Can Hermione rebuild her life and make something of herself without the boys?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful world of Harry Potter and the canon characters belong to J .K. Rowling, I am only borrowing them to write for my and other people's enjoyment without any intention of profiting from it. I thank this creative lady for blessing us with such a rich ground to build up our creativity on!

* * *

The brunette witch felt like someone dumped a couple dozen buckets of ice cold water on her, and left her outside in a snow storm to fend for herself without the slightest sliver of assistance or care for her well-being and safety. Her face went completely blank, and she felt like her mind was teetering on the brink of shutting down. She was unable to process what was happening, and that was simply unthinkable, as she was usually on the top of the thinking and processing game.

"'Mione, are you listening?" Ron huffed and rolled his eyes, impatient to get this discussion over with, so he and his best friend could finally start _living_ their lives.

Hermione gave him a strained nod, unable to do much of anything else in her disturbed state.

Harry could not look her in the eyes. "I am grateful for everything you have done, Hermione, but you don't have to worry about me anymore. The war is over, and you have your own life to live. You don't need to take care of us anymore. I am going away, and I am taking Ron with me. We need some time to deal with everything, and we cannot do that here in England."

"Tell Mum that we will write to her, but we cannot stay here for a minute longer," the tall redhead added, and slung his travel bag over his shoulder.

Harry glanced at Hermione from the corner of his eyes, and he was flooded with guilt, which he instantly pushed away. "We better go, our Portkey is leaving soon," he said, and gave the girl an awkward hug, that was nothing like they shared for the past seven years. "Take care, Hermione."

Hermione was rooted to the ground, numbly watching her best friends go on another adventure, leaving her behind to deal with the aftermath on her own.

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 **A/N:** This is the prologue to what promises to be a journey of rebuilding a life so shattered, that Hermione feels hopeless. But she won't be on her own like she thinks. What happens when a couple of mischief-makers and some unlikely friends take her under their wings?

I am open to pairing suggestions.

I am torn between some Slytherins, or the Weasley twins. Mayhap even Luna, and/or Fleur. I love me some Luna and Fleur, especially when they pick Hermione up from her ashes.


	2. Numb Devastation

Hours later, when the sun was just rising over the horizon, Hermione was still standing in the same spot the boys had left her in. She was motionless, a good likeness of someone who had been petrified. Her posture was unnaturally stiff, the flickering early morning sunlight highlighting the deep circles of shadows underneath her blank eyes.

The witch did not even look up when the dense wooden door flung open with a noisy creak, she was as still as a delicately carved marble statue, and only the barely visible rise and fall of her chest hinted that she was even breathing.

George paused in the doorway, an involuntary tremor of uneasiness running down his spine as his eyes snapped to the petite witch, whose slender feet seemed to be permanently fixed to his Mum's favourite carpet. He swallowed his anxiety and stepped into the room, his eyes nervously darting around for any sign that would explain why Hermione attached herself to the floor.

Not even his movement caused Hermione to notice him, and his sense of disquiet deepened as he walked closer to her. He glanced at her face, his bright blue eyes widening in shock at what he saw. The young woman's skin was pale with an unhealthy grayish undertone, and the light seeping through the windows only emphasized how sunken her cheeks really were.

The lanky wizard's breath hitched in his throat in alarm when she finally looked up at him. Instead of gazing into a pair of intelligent eyes that sparkled with the warmth of the sun, he was staring into the void.

"Hermione?" he asked with a concern laced voice, as he gently touched her bare arm. "What happened, love?"

Hermione did not respond to his question. It was like she did not even hear him, which prompted him to wonder, if she even saw that he was standing right in front of her. _Was Hermione even conscious of his fingertips lightly grazing her soft skin?_

George sighed, and his eyes trailed her, frowning at the sad state of her hair. Her lush curls, which normally gave the illusion of being almost sentient, fell flat on her shoulders and back. _What in the name of Merlin's braided beard had happened that sucked the life out of Hermione Granger?_ Even the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter - Helena, the Grey Lady of Hogwarts - seemed to have more colour and life to her transparent self, than Hermione did.

"Hermione?" he addressed her again, warily waving his hands in front of her face.

Hermione was as unresponsive as before, and George's eye twitched in his distress, as he was becoming seriously worried about the witch. He reached out to touch her again, applying slightly more pressure on her arm.

"Hermione, love, what happened?" he asked, as he slowly started rubbing a spot above her wrist.

There was a flicker of awareness flashing in her eyes. "They left," her voice cracked.

George's heart had sunk into his stomach at her tone of absolute devastation. "Who left?" he asked her to clarify, but he had a troublesome suspicion that he knew exactly who.

He felt Hermione stiffen further, if that was even possible. "Harry and Ron did."

George swallowed a jolt of unbelievable anger at her statement, his body trembling with his repressed fury. "Hermione, how long have you been standing here?" he asked sharply.

Hermione blinked, and stared at him numbly. "I don't know," she admitted. "Does it matter?" She inquired, her voice unsettlingly unfeeling.

"Of course it bloody matters!" George raised his voice, his control of his emotions slipping, but it did not seem to faze the witch in the slightest.

"Why?" Hermione asked, her face a mask of disturbing indifference.

George took a deep breath to calm himself and looked at her incredulously. He needed to be delicate with her, but Hermione was aggravating his nerves for more than one reason. She was clearly in shock, he had no doubts about that, but she also had to have done _something_ to her emotions, because she looked and sounded indifferent and painfully _detached_ , which was very _unlike_ her.

George slowly exhaled and thought about how to best handle the situation. "Hermione, would you care to sit?" he asked after a long pause.

The brunette witch blinked and stepped forward, but her knees twitched and shook under her, which showed George that she clearly stood in that exact same position way longer than she should have. He quickly looped an arm around her waist and scooped her into his arms, jaunting towards the canary yellow sofa tucked into the corner of the room, gently putting her down on one of the soft cushions with an airy swoosh.

Hermione's small stature quivered slightly, so he looked around for a moment, and spying one of his Mother's famously snug knitted comforters, he wrapped it around her.

"Alright then," George mumbled to himself, stealing a glance at her. "How about I get you something to drink, and then we can talk some more?" he suggested, and not even waiting for a reaction, George turned around and walked into the kitchen, where he grabbed two glasses and poured some ice cold water into them.

Not even thirty seconds later he was back at her side, handing Hermione her glass of water.

"Drink!" He gently ordered her, and to his surprise, the witch did as he asked and with shaking hands, she lifted the glass and sipped at the water, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from her lips. "Alright then..." George nodded, chugging his own glassful. "Did Harry and Ron say why they were leaving?"

Even though Hermione appeared disinterested, he spotted the involuntary twitch of her left eye, and the way her shoulders stiffened at his question. "Yes," she hummed, but did not offer any further explanation.

George's eye twitched as well, but this time with sheer irritation, rather than concern, because even though he was worried, he also possessed the famous Weasley temper, and it took a lot of effort restraining it at the moment.

"Would you care to elaborate?" he gritted between his teeth.

Another eye twitch, a blink, and a huff of air later, Hermione's shoulders slightly slumped in defeat, and she began to talk with a broken voice. "They wanted to leave England," she paused, digging her fingers into the flesh of her thighs under the cover of the comforter. "They said that they need time to deal, and that I am free to live my life the way I want..." Her voice trailed off, the slightest hint of disbelief shining through her shields, and then she suddenly barked a sharp humorless laugh that made George _cringe_. "That was a blatant dismissal of my _'services'_ if I ever heard one."

"Hermione..." he said gently, reaching out to touch her hand, but she shook her head and jerked away.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, George, but I am fine," she said rather unconvincingly. "Ah, before I forget..., Ronald asked me to tell your Mum that they will write to her. Could you please tell her that?"

George stared at Hermione, and all the irritation he previously felt because of her dissipated when he realized what she wasn't saying.

 _They promised to write to his Mum, but not her._

He nodded his consent with one question swirling around the forefront of his mind:

 _Where would they go from here, and how will they be able to fix what his idiotic brother and his moronic best friend had obviously broken?_

Only time would tell, but for now, all he could do was support Hermione, and deliver the news to his family.

 _'Well, isn't that a fun task to do,'_ he thought with a wince as he watched the petite young woman curl up on the sofa and fall asleep.

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 **A/N:** I tried to portray how devastated Hermione really is, with focus on how George is dealing with the situation life threw at him. I think he is doing a good job, all things considered. Many thanks to one of my dear readers, **Kallanit** , who was kind enough to nudge me towards the right direction. :)

What do you think should happen next? Hermione is obviously broken and I hinted that her emotions are occluded, so she has yet to have a sobbing, trembling, honest to heaven break down, but for now she is repressing everything.

Thank you for the startling interest for such a short prologue and your patience for me to follow it up!


End file.
